


Instructions For Dancing

by inheritanceofgeek



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkwardness, Blind!Frerin, Dancing, F/M, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Frerin Lives, Fígrid February, Fíli Is a Sweetheart, Gen, Goats, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-The Hobbit, Romantic Cliches a plenty, Slow Burn, Smidge Of Angst, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9574478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inheritanceofgeek/pseuds/inheritanceofgeek
Summary: After the death of her mother, Sigrid and her siblings are sent away to live with their aunt and cousins in Rohan whilst their father tries to make ends meet back in Lake Town.Sigrid takes it upon herself to raise her newborn sister, but her aunt wishes that she would live the life of an average teenager; made up of love, laughter and plenty of dancing.Who should then show up but a group of dwarves selling their wares. One dwarf in particular takes Sigrid's interest, but how could she ever admit her true feelings, when they know they only have one month to spend together?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sadieb798 and MagicMarker for letting me bounce ideas and complaints with you. 
> 
> The title is from a lyric from [The Book of Love by Peter Gabriel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D4oH3Fx3d2g)
> 
> I actually started writing this as a break from all the Porn in TROTG, and decided to just go back to visit it for Figrid February because it didn’t need much else doing to it.

For Bard, the hardest part of losing Kendra was  _ admitting _ to how hard it was. He felt like his whole world had been shattered to pieces. His body was made up of broken glass; each movement slicing himself open that little bit more. In this state he couldn’t even comfort his children, he just felt like he was hurting them more just by trying. Because Bard  _ was _ trying, he just couldn’t cope anymore. He needed to work longer hours because they only had one income now, but he also needed to stay at home because who else was going to look after their children? Before, he’d not mind leaving Sigrid to watch over Bain for a few hours; but he couldn’t expect a fifteen year-old to watch over a mourning eight year-old  _ and _ a newborn baby. She was already worn out thin. Her once bright blue eyes were now a dull grey, blonde hair almost white, skin turned yellow as parchment. She was old, old long before her time and Bard had no idea what to do about it. 

That was a lie though. He knew  _ exactly _ what he had to do but he so but he didn't want to admit to it. However when he was awoken in the early hours of the morning by Tilda’s screaming wail he understood that he could not put it off any longer. He reached into the crib and clung to his baby girl with all his might and cried with her. His tears splashed down upon her face like hailstones and she stopped crying to look up at her da with big brown eyes.

“I’m so sorry my little songbird,” he sniffed, nuzzling her head --that newborn baby smell as absent at her mother -- “but I’m going to have to say goodbye for a while. But I’ll be back, I promise. You won’t even remember that I left you.” He tried to smile, to make it seem like a joke but he couldn’t help the way his mouth wobbled with every heaving breath. When their baby started to cry again the sound smashed him apart once more. All he was doing by keeping his family with him was causing them more pain. It was time to let go.

In the next room, Sigrid rolled over in her bed; her cousin's letter scrunched up in her hand. Thirteen year-old Éolist seemed so excited at the prospect of Sigrid moving to live with her and her family. The letter was filled with promises of adventures and dances and romance; but all Sigrid wanted in the world was to remain in Laketown with the fish and the ice and her father. But even she had to admit, the best thing for Tilda was to be somewhere happy; and that was the one thing that was impossible to find in their little home anymore.

The next day, Bard began to make firm plans for their move to Rohan and a week later he was waving goodbye to his children and to the last remnants of his wife.

“Don’t worry little colt,” said Kena, pulling her nephew closer to her and not minding the snot he was rubbing into her apron “you’ll see your da soon enough.”

“Two years isn’t soon.” commented Sigrid in a dull, broken tone, her baby sister still clutched tightly to her breast. 

“I know Love, I know. But there’ll be Yule and Harvest and letters every week, mark my words. It won’t feel this bad for long.” She smiled, going to wrap an arm around her too. Sigrid shoved her off and turned her back on her da’s retreating form.

“Tilda needs changing. Where can I do that?” 

“Oh don’t worry about any of that,” grinned her uncle Théoéstful “I’ll take care of her, you and Éolist can go scout out your new room instead!” 

“No,” she barked, “I’m her big sister, it’s my job. She cries whenever anybody else does it.”  

Théoéstful gave his wife a questioning look which she could only answer with a shrug. “Just go show her, Love. Your room will still be there when she’s done.” She added, cutting off Éolist’s protest before it happened. 

“Thank You.” Said Sigrid primly, following her uncle into his bedroom-come-nursery.

Kena watched her go with a deep sigh. She knew how to wipe away tears and snotty noses. She could chase away nightmares with bright sunshine and games -- but the kind of sadness that was chained to Sigrid; that was harder to unpick. She reminded Kena so much of her own big sister. Seeing her niece hurting like this felt like losing Kendra all over again. But maybe that was the way of things and maybe, if the gods were kind to them, something good would come of their stay. If Sigrid were able to smile again then it would be as if  _ Kendra _ were smiling, and that was a comforting thought if ever there was one. She could only pray that Béma would send his riders to them sooner rather than later. 

Yet in the end it was not Béma and his stallions who rode in to spread their joy, but rather Mahal and his goats.

Every child in Esgaroth knew the tale of the dwarves of Erebor, but none more so than those of Girion’s line. Many people had blamed Girion for what had happened with the dragon, spreading lies that he had missed his mark and so  _ that _ was the reason they now lived in Smaug’s shadow. The Men also knew that it had been Thror’s lust for gold that had bought the dragon in the first place, and this was why so many of Sigrid’s relatives chose to blame the dwarves instead. They repeated the Seer’s prophecy of ‘ _ The Lord of Silver Fountains _ ’ as though it were proven fact. Sigrid distinctly remembered her paternal grandmother warning her to avoid any and all contact with dwarves.

However, Sigrid had never felt anything but pity for the dwarves, especially at present. She also knew what it was like to flee your home and everyone you knew and try to make a new life for yourself and your family. It hadn’t been the  _ dwarves _ fault their king had fallen ill, and it hadn’t been  _ their _ fault that Smaug had burnt down Dale! Just as many Dwarves had been killed by Smaug as Men, and Sigrid didn’t see why they should get the same amount of blame as her ancestor did. Girion might have failed to kill the beast, but at least he’d  _ tried _ and she was sure the dwarves had as well. The only one at fault in any of this was the dragon, and it was rather hard to hold a dragon accountable to anything. It was best to try and let these things go, and not waste time holding unnecessary grudges. 

So it seemed somewhat fortuitous for the line of Durin, that the first person they met when setting up their camp was not some bitter, superstitious Rohirrim; but Sigrid. 

She’d been trying to find flowers to decorate Tilda’s cot when she first spotted the blue fabric of the Caravan peeking out above the horizon. She watched curiously as the carts drew nearer, before stopping completely before her. Sigrid gazed in awe at what was before her! She’d quickly grown used to the sight of horses, her once juvenile excitement at seeing such magnificent creatures gone away at their sheer commonplace amongst village life. However it was not stallions who drew this cart but rather Rams! Or so she thought they were. The creatures were larger than any she’d seen before, with great curved horns and snorting nostrils. They seemed almost big enough to ride, and indeed, some  _ were  _ being ridden. 

“You there!” shouted one of the men, “Tell us where we are!” Sigrid jumped at the commanding tone, not expecting such a deep voice to come from someone so small. She took in his long, braided hair; his thick beard and bushy eyebrows. She let out a short gasp as she quickly came to the conclusion that the men before her were not men at all, but rather real life actual  _ dwarves _ ! There were seven of them in total, the youngest looked to be about Éolist’s age, whilst the eldest had hair whiter than any she’d seen before, marking him as the oldest person must she’d ever come across. 

“Come on girl, out with it,” ordered the dwarf, but Sigrid could still only just gape at them and their goats. 

“Oh leave her alone Thorin,” sighed one of the other dwarves with the kind of exasperated tone Sigrid had often used when Bain was being stubborn. “The lass has clearly never seen a dwarf before give her a moment,” they added more kindly. Sigrid noted that their voice was much higher pitched than the other dwarves, their features slightly softer and rounder. They wore the exact same style of clothing as their companions but had a hooped nose piercing and several ornate rings.

“So the stories are true, you do all have beards as well!” She said rather excitedly and then immediately wished the ground would swallow her up for saying such a stupid thing. 

The dam just laughed softly and dismounted her goat, handing the reins to one of the dwarves nearest her. There was a shout from her companion in a language Sigrid didn’t understand but knew to be a warning, she also knew that the hand signal the dam shot back was not one of good manners.

“Hello Dear, I’m Dís, daughter of  Durís , and that over there is my brother, Thorin. We are both at your most humble service, she bowed deeply. Sigrid was not particularly tall, and had not had her final growth spurt, yet the dwarf was still several inches shorter than her.  _ If dwarves were this small, _ she thought to herself,  _ I’d love to see how tiny hobbits are! _

“Oh I’m so sorry I was staring wasn't I!” gushed Sigrid, taking in dam’s patient smile, “You’re right I haven’t met any dwarves before but I suppose you get that a lot, and it was rude of me to stare even then, I’m sorry, um, I’m Sigrid daughter of, of do I say my father’s name or my mother’s name?” She asked, feeling slightly panicked at being put on the spot like this.

“Well it depends on how you want to identify yourself.” Dís, daughter of  Durís , smiled ruefully “You don’t even need to let us know their names at all unless you think it might add to the conversation.” 

“Oh right well, I mean. Alright then can we stick to Sigrid then, um, Ma’am?” 

The dam chuckled and a few of the other dwarves exchanged endered smiles. “Sigrid is grand, and no ‘Ma’am’ is necessary, just Dís is fine.” 

“No, Sister, ‘Just Dís’ is  _ not _ fine! Remember who you are to our people!” Shouted her brother but his words were once again met with the same crude hand gesture. 

“Now, what my idiot brother was trying to say earlier was that he’s gotten us a little bit lost--” 

“-- _ I _ haven’t got us lost  _ you’re _ the one who insisted we--”

“--and he’s too stubborn to admit when he’s wrong, so we’re stuck in a bit of a landslide at the moment,” she shrugged apologetically.

“Well, is there anything I can do to help?” Sigrid asked, clutching Tilda’s flowers more closely to her chest. She’d not managed to pick as many as she’d have liked given the time, but it would do for now at least.

“We’re looking for Éststed, it’s a village around here. We heard there was work going at the forge and thought we’d come and see if it were true.”

“Oh it is!” Said Sigrid eagerly “Éomiht’s been ill for three months see, but nobody has the skills she’s got so everyone’s all annoyed because there’s nobody around to fix anything. The farrier can patch holes in a bucket alright but anything more complicated than that is beyond him.” She gabbled, it was probably the most she’d actually said to anyone (other than Tilda) since arriving in Rohan six months ago. 

“So I take it you live there then?” Dís grinned. Sigrid blushed slightly and gave a quick nod. “Would you mind showing us the way?” 

“Oh yes. I mean, of course not I-- sure,” she stammered and began to make her way back to the village. 

“Much obliged thank you,” Dís bowed again, gesturing Sigrid to lead the way. The dwarf easily kept step with her despite her shorter legs. Thorin gave another huff that, again, sounded awfully similar to Bain’s and soon the whole company were following slowly on behind. Sigrid kept her mouth shut as they walked, afraid that she might say something to offend them once more. She wasn’t great around other people, not since Mam had died anyway. She usually just wanted to shut herself away with Tilda and have everyone else leave well alone. She had only been out in the field because Aunt Kena forced her to spend time outside at least once a week. 

“Why don’t I introduce you to the rest of the family?” said Dís, breaking what seemed to have become an unintentionally icy silence. When Sigrid felt too shy to respond, she pushed on through “You’ve already been acquainted with my eldest brother, Thorin, the grumpy one.”

“I am not grumpy,” he grumbled 

“But the blonde one in the caravan with the overly elaborate beard is my other brother, Frerin.” 

“Hey, just because I can’t see me doesn’t mean I should deprive others of my beauty!” He shouted back and Sigrid turned to see that his eyes were indeed unfocused, with a deep scar running from the top of this head to the bottom of his cheek. He was certainly still a very handsome man though, or rather dwarf.

“Frerin, remember your manners!” Sang his sister and the dwarf chuckled, giving Sigrid an elaborate bow from where he sat 

“At your service, my fine young lady, nay,  _ princess _ no doubt.” 

“And the one sitting next to him with the white hair is our cousin, Balin,” continued Dís choosing not to comment further on her brother’s antics.

Balin gave a merry wave, and bowed his head to her “At your service, my lady.” 

“And then the bald, scary one riding the goat is Balin’s brother Dwalin, don’t mind him, he scowls at everyone he first meets; he’ll get over it.” 

“Dís, be careful, we don’t know this girl. She could be anyone,” he said rather darkly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Manners!” Sang Dís again and the dwarf ground his jaw, his hold on the reins tightening. 

“At your service then,” he made it sound like a threat. Sigrid was comforted though by the steely stare Dís shot back at him. It was clear that she was the leader of this company, no matter what the others might fool themselves into believing. 

“And I’m Kíli and this is my brother Fíli!” grinned the youngest, riding up to her eagerly. Even seated on his goat she could tell that he could not be much taller than Bain, though he clearly had several years on him. Whilst everyone else had thick, well tamed beards his was scruffier and more like stubble. It didn’t have that fluffy, airy look of some of the village boys who were trying to convince themselves they had beards worthy of warriors; rather Kíli’s looked as though it was just slow to grow. The thick hair was there, it was just waiting for it to come through properly. 

“My sons,” said Dís fondly, “don’t mind them, they’ve been stuck with us old fogeys for too long I think. They’ve not had anyone young to talk to in a while.”

“Speak for yourself!” shouted Frerin with dramatic outrage.

“You’re nine years older than me!” she shot back 

“Yes, in years maybe but not in spirit, am I right kids?” 

“I’m going to stay out of this,” smiled Fíli, 

“Spoilsport,” huffed Frerin, turning his back away from the sound of his nephew’s voice. 

“Hello. I’m Fíli, pleased to meet you.” He said, bowing his head slightly. He had two sets of reins in his hands, one for his mother’s goat the other for one that seemed to be walking with a slight limp. The creature kept putting its muzzle to him, nosing about in a pocket for apparent snacks. “And this is Zantul,” he laughed, pushing the goat away slightly, earning himself a rather hurt sounding bleet. 

Sigrid smiled and nodded at him, her brain drawing a bit of a blank all of a sudden. He had the same sort of bearing of one who has grown very quickly in a short space of time and had not quite gotten used to the fact yet. Though there was nothing gangly about him, quite the opposite in fact! He was broad shouldered with thick arms and legs that gave the impression of a certain quiet strength. He looked a little older than Sigrid but not by much, a couple of years perhaps? He already had a full, thick golden beard though it lacked the grand decoration of his mother’s, though he did share her kind, blue eyes. 

“You okay there?” He asked, frowning slightly. Once more all Sigrid could do was nod, any words she might have wanted to say were caught up in her throat. 

“You don’t happen to know if there’s someone in the village who knows anything about goats do you? Or I suppose horses might do? You said there was a farrier?” He asked again; and again Sigrid could only nod as though it had become her primary purpose in life. 

“It’s just that Zantul has gotten herself injured see and I was hoping someone could take a look at her?” 

Sigrid had to practically physically restrain herself from nodding again and to try something else, a sound of any kind would be useful! She opened her mouth, which was a good start, and felt her tongue move in what could have contributed to words had any noise actually been given. 

“Are you  _ sure _ you’re alright?” he frowned, looking to his mother as though to check that it wasn’t just him seeing all of this.

Sigrid tried again and this time let out a little squeak. Which was probably better than nothing. Probably. 

“ _ Oooh _ ! Is that it over there!” cried Kíli, pointing at the rows of thatched houses just appearing round the bend.

“Yes!” said Sigrid at last, heaving a huge sigh of relief. “Actually, that’s my aunt’s house there.” She pointed to one of the larger ones. It wasn't a actually a house, rather a inn popular amongst the villagers; but a house was a house, though she still didn’t consider it a home.

“See brother,” said Frerin with a large amount of smugness “told you we were right to ask for directions. We’d never have found it if you kept taking us around in circles like that.” 

Thorin made a grumbling noise that just made Frerin laugh all the harder “I love how I can literally hear you scowl, it’s fantastic!” 

“Why don’t you run back to your house Dear, and we’ll stop by later to say thank you,” smiled Dís, who had already sensed Sigrid’s apprehension. 

“Sorry,” she repeated “maybe not I mean, you should come round but you don’t have to I mean--” she looked back at Fíli and gave another little squeak and for some reason she started to run as fast as her legs could carry her. She had no idea why but it felt like the right thing to do.

“Was it something I said?” asked Fíli, feeling rather hurt and confused.

“Probably something you did,” nodded Kíli, a wicked glint in his eyes. Fíli’s watched Sigrid go with even greater concern. 

“Maybe you should pop round later and apologise,” suggested Frerin casually, and even if he knew about the the glares he was receiving from Dwalin and Thorin, he would have ignored them. 

“Right, yes Uncle Frerin you’re right. I’ll go after we’ve finished setting camp. Is that alright with you Mum?” He checked earnestly and Dís gave him a sweet smile.

“Leave it a bit and then go see her. A lady doesn’t like to be inundated unawares. Come on, let’s find a place to pitch camp where we won’t get killed in our sleep!” She added rather too merrily. 

Thorin and Dwalin looked at one another and shared in a disgruntled growl. Fíli couldn’t see why they were so upset. Sigrid hadn’t seemed all that bad to him, a little shy but there was nothing wrong with that. After all, it must be scary, bumping into a bunch of armed dwarves when you were just sitting in a field minding your own business. There were many who wouldn’t have helped them out at all, or sent them in the opposite direction just for a laugh. It was only right of him to go and thank her properly. He made a quick mental note of where she’d pointed to before going back to helping his mother find a suitable place for them to call home for the next few days. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this kind of dialogue heavy chapter is rather obvious that I originally wrote this as a break from Porn-With-Plot. 
> 
> Anyway, further teenage romance and blushing and no porn of any sort what so ever <3
> 
> Hope you enjoy it ^__^
> 
> BTW -- I've put my name Etymology for everyone at the end of the chapter, if that kind of thing interests you ^___^
> 
> Also my Dissertation is due in on Friday and um....... O__O

Éolist was staring at Sigrid as though trying to deduce her. Her eyes were squinted, her hand rested thoughtfully on her chin as she leant forward for closer inspection. Over all it made  _ Éolist _ look like the suspicious one. Suddenly her hand slapped the table, making Sigrid jump and almost drop the drinking horn she was in the middle of cleaning.

“You met a boy!” she screeched “That’s why you’re like this!” 

“Like what?” replied Sigrid all too defensively

“Misty eyed and quiet. Gazing out of the window with a quiet sigh,” Éolist, did her best, most dramatic impersonation “Oh  _ great _ Valar,  _ when _ will my husband  _ return _ from the war?” 

“Oh shut up! I didn’t meet any boy. And keep your voice down you’ll upset Tilda.” Snapped Sigrid, nodding her head towards where her sister sat in her pen, gently chewing on the ear of a straw horse and looking content with everything in life. 

“Oh  _ come on _ Sig! Let the filly out the field, tell me what happened!” Pleaded Éolist, leaning on the kitchen table and lifting her feet off the ground . 

“There’s nothing to tell, Éolist. By  _ Ulmo _ , stop living in a fantasy.” 

“ _ Siiig _ stop being _ boooring _ and tell the truth! Was it a girl? Is  _ that _ why you won’t tell me?” 

“There was no boy or girl or, or anyone,” Sigrid could tell she was blushing and was furious with herself “Stop asking questions.” 

“Tilda wants to know who you met, don’t you Tilly?” cooed Éolist, rounding on her youngest cousin. Tilda dropped the horse from her mouth and looked up with big brown eyes, then over at Sigrid and back at Éolist again. She made a gurgling bubbling mix of sounds which Éolist seemed to take as a yes, judging by her triumphant grin. 

Sigrid sighed, throwing the dishcloth in the sink and turning to face her cousins straight on. “I didn’t meet any boy or any girl in the field, alright?” 

“ _ Sooo _ you’ve said but--” 

“--I did meet a few dwarves though.” 

“Dwarves!” squealed Éolist with a whole new level of excitement “Béma’s Stallion tell me all about them! What were they like, what did they say? What did they do? How many were there?” she jumped up and down on the spot, clinging to Sigrid’s arm. 

“Well,” began Sigrid, peeling away from her cousin’s grip and going to sit at the table “they weren’t very tall for one, and they all had beards though most of them kept them pretty short, not as long as they say they are in the stories you know?” 

Éolist nodded eagerly, her eyes the size of dinner plates as she waited for what else Sigrid had to say next. 

“A couple of them were a bit, you know, stiff and grumpy but the other four were nice enough. One of them was a woman, and yes, she did have a beard as well! But she wore a lot more jewelry, though not as many as the one they called Frerin, who was blind see, but he had loads of silver beads braided into his hair.” 

“Wow” breathed Éolist, as though this was the most mind blowing thing she had ever heard. 

“And oh,  _ oh _ ! They had this caravan right, and it was pulled by two goats!” 

“Goats!” cried Éolist, this time alerting Tilda to the concept that something bad might be happening, but even a baby can sense when someone is excited with life, and not just crying because the world was a terrible place. 

“Yes! Massive ones though, not like the ones you sometimes see at the market but big ones   _ the size of ponies _ !” 

Éolist's mouth dropped open, her young face filled with ecstasy. 

“And then,” continued Sigrid who had finally found her voice after six months of surly retorts and exasperation “there were these two other ones called Kíli and Fíli, and Kíli was about your age and Fíli was a bit older than I am and he had these two goats with him and one of them was ill and he said that she needed someone to look after her, and so I told him that the farrier is good at that kind of thing only I didn’t say that but I  _ meant _ to say it, see?”

“What do you mean you ‘ _ meant to  _ say it _ ’ _ ?” Frowned Éolist, adopting the same deductive pose as before. Sigrid felt her face redden again and somehow Éolist's mouth seemed to find an extra inch to drop open “You didn’t meet a boy  _ or _ a girl you met a  _ dwarf _ !” 

“Sigrid met a dwarf?” asked  Kadar , Éolist’s brother, coming into the room now with Bain trailing in after him. They both looked like they’d had a very successful day fighting dragons and sorcerers in the fields, their skin brown from either sun or dirt, it was impossible to tell. 

“Yeah! And it sounds like she met  _ one _ dwarf in  _ particular _ ,” chirped Éolist, who had a tether on Sigrid now and would not be letting go anytime soon. 

“What were they like Sig?” asked Bain, coming up to sit next to her, but Sigrid batted his grubby hands away and ordered him to go and wash up before they actually made a start on dinner. Her aunt and uncle were always busy working in the inn most of the time, preparing meals for visitors and serving drinks to their various regulars and so it fell to Éolist to prepare dinner, though Sigrid had unceremoniously taken up the job; much to her Aunt’s disapproval and to Éolist’s delight. It was mostly made up of whatever the guests were eating, but sometimes there was a little extra meat to throw in there specially. 

“ _ Awwwh, _ ” pouted the boys in unison. Kadar was two years older than Bain but it didn’t change the fact that they had become like two oars in a boat. Sigrid was glad to see Bain had started to swim back to the shallows after everything they’d been through. It hurt her to have to see him so quiet and unresponsive, especially around Tilda. Sigrid gave a motherly sigh.

“Alright I’ll tell you about them over dinner?”

The boys gave out triumphant  _ whoops _ and raced off to the bathroom to wash up in the hopes that by being ready for dinner before would make it arrive all the sooner. Instead Sigrid had had to put up with a chorus of pitiful “is it ready yet?” every two minutes. Eventually dinner was served and the family all settled down to eat before the mad rush that followed the end of every other Villager’s work day and the start of theirs. 

Sigrid retold the tale of the dwarves and how they arrived. She had had more time to prepare her story this time, and painted them a far more reasonable and respectable picture of how she behaved around them and, in particular, around Fíli. 

However Sigrid really was far too much like her mother for any of her mannerisms to pass by Kena unnoticed. She grinned, catching her husband’s eye and they both stifled a giggle. Sigrid was behaving  _ exactly _ like Kendra did when she’d first begun to talk about Bard. Just then a plan galloped into Kena’s brain.

“Goats you say? Well I never. What a coincidence, I was just saying the other day that it would be nice to have some goats in the village.” she commented, picking at her stew

“Why’s that Mam?” asked Éolist who was wise enough to spot a scheme when she saw one, though Sigrid was still blissfully ignorant to it. 

“Well, Tilda here isn’t really getting all the things she needs to grow up big and strong like her own mam, is she?”

“Isn’t she?” asked Sigrid, with a note of panic, glancing over at the room where she was currently fast asleep after her feed. She’d seemed content enough then, but Sigrid didn’t have the same experience with raising children as her aunt did, for obvious reasons.

“Well, cow’s milk is easy to come by, but isn’t as good for babes as goat’s milk is.”

Sigrid thought about this carefully for a second “Do you think the dwarves would be willing to trade some goat’s milk for, I don’t know, something? There has to be something we can offer them that nobody else can!”

“Well, there’s always ale…” mused Théoéstful, glancing at his wife to check that they were on the same page.

“Yes! Oh please Uncle ‘Éstful please can you give them free drinks! I’m sure the dwarves would love them! And Tilda needs the goats milk like Auntie said! You have to give it to them you  _ have _ to!” pleaded Sigrid, leaning out of her chair.

“Hold on little filly it was my idea in the first place! It’s your aunt you should check with.” 

Sigrid turned her eyes to her with pleading eyes. Kena took a moment to fane deep thought before taking pity on her niece “Well I don’t see why we shouldn’t. Seems like a fair trade, a drink for a drink.”

“Thank You, thank you, thank you,  _ thank you _ !” cried Sigrid, running around the table to hug them both “I’ll go and ask them now!” she stood up to race downstairs and grab her coat.

“Hold your horses!” cried her Uncle, reaching out to grab her arm. “From the sound of it the dwarves will still be there in the morning, and we’ve still got a lot of work to do tonight. You can go and see them tomorrow.” 

Sigrid heaved a long suffering sigh and rolled her eyes in only the way a teenager could. “Fine! I’ll wait until morning before going to find them, but if they’re gone I’m blaming you.” 

Kena’s smirk grew by a fraction. Sigrid was acting like an annoying, overly emotional teenager, frustrated at parental rules and boundaries. It looked like stage one of Kena’s plan was going perfectly.  

In the end, Sigrid hadn’t had to go and find them at all. The dwarves had journeyed into the village the next day, true to their word. Thorin had barged straight to the blacksmith to argue his way into taking charge of her station whilst she recovered, whilst Dís set to finding out where and when the local markets were so as she could try and sell her various crafts. It didn’t matter where you were in Arda, everyone was always after finely made dwarven metal work. Kíli was in charge of looking after Frerin, who was in turn looking after Kíli -- the hope being that when one of them got into trouble the other would be quick witted enough to get them out of it. Fíli had a few more important tasks to complete of his own though. 

His first mission was to seek out the farrier Sigrid had mentioned, to see if they could do anything for Zantul. 

Fíli didn’t like the way everyone in the village stared at him and his family. It was something he was used to by now though, everywhere they went these days they were treated like a band of travelling minstrels; either that, or like some sort of exotic commodity, or simply ordered to get lost. He longed to return back in the blue mountains, but they needed money for their people and to get that they needed to set up trading posts and build relationships amongst the race of men. It was tiresome, but he was a prince after all. It was his  _ job _ . Still, he’d have perhaps liked a less nomadic existence, a permanent place to call home; his family had assured him that his home was Erebor, but how could somewhere you’ve never been to, let alone be able to return to, be a home? 

The farrier had at least treated him properly, and hadn’t talk to him like he were some bumbling oaf come to rob him of his wares. He was perhaps a slight bit condescending but only same way all adults were when faced with teenagers. He did seem interested in Zantul’s health though, and promised to see about her leg once he was done for the day. 

“From what I can see it’s some sort of fracture that’s making her limp, but I’d need to examine her more closely. Come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about it. No charge,” he said, waving away Fíli’s purse “not until I know the full issue, I’m not even sure if there’s anything I can do at all just yet. I’m not familiar with goats, those she seems a fine beastie.” He laughed, stroking Zantul as she tried to nibble at his shirt. She was not the best behaved of goats, Fíli knew this; however she was his closest companion save for his brother and he would not change her for the world. He kissed the top of her head before leaving her in the care of the farrier and went off to see to his other task.

Fíli didn’t understand why his stomach felt so unsettled, but it did. His palms were surprisingly sweaty and when he reached the inn he almost turned back entirely. But he’d promised Uncle Frerin he would go and apologise to Sigrid and thank her for her help. He’d even bought her a gift just as his mother had suggested, but maybe if he just left it on her doorstep, with a note he could always----

“Oh! Fíli, it--it’s you, um, he--hello!” gasped Sigrid, who’d just come out of a concealed side door.

He felt completely caught off guard even though he’d been the one to come to speak to her. He’d been mentally planning this meeting all the way here, she was meant to be upstairs and he’d ask her aunt to speak to her, and then she'd go grab her, and Sigrid would come down, and then she’d--

“Um, what are you doing here?” asked Sigrid, looking at him with nervous concern and, alright it seemed it was now his turn to be unable to form a sentence. Why was this happening all of a sudden? Was he sick? Was there some sort of infection in the village that he wasn’t aware of? 

“Who are the flowers for?” she continued and Fíli hadn’t noticed the first time they’d spoken but she had a small dusting of freckles across her nose from the spring sun. They were more delicate and more beautiful than any beard or moustache she might have had were she a dwarf, and he found himself slightly transfixed by them. He also thought that at this rate he’d have a beard down to his ankles by the time he remembered how speech worked. 

“It’s, erm, funny that I bumped into you I was just, coming to find your family, and you I mean, I wasn’t  _ avoiding _ you I just didn’t  _ need _ to see you as well as--”

“They’re for you!” he blurted out at last, frustrating the flowers out towards her “Yesterday you were picking them and then we interrupted you, so I thought you would like some to say thank you for helping us.”

“Oh.” she said, slowly reaching out to take them from him, her cheeks reddening. “That’s very kind of you, you didn’t have to--”

“So  _ you’re _ the dwarf!” came an overly loud voice from behind Sigrd. Fíli looked up and saw a girl about his brother’s age, with the same blonde hair as Sigrid, but her eyes were darker and sharper. 

“ _ Éolist _ !” hissed Sigrid, and looked back at Fíli with something akin to panic “Sorry Fíli, this is my cousin, Éolist. I told her I was coming to see you--  _ and _ your family and she wanted to come along but I thought that maybe--”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!” grinned Éolist, hitting a fist to her chest in what Fíli had learnt was the Rohirrim way of greeting. It struck him as suddenly odd how Sigrid had never done it...

“ _ Oooh _ ! Are these flowers from you?” she asked, bending down to look at them. 

“I got them from the field,” said Fíli nervously, still addressing Sigrid, “you were there anyway so--”

“Most of these are actually poisonous.” Nodded Éolist thoughtfully and Fíli felt his heart stop beating as he reached out to grab them from Sigrid and throw them to the ground! How was he suppose to know what was poisonous and what was not?! He just picked the ones that looked prettiest and they’d not done him any harm but that didn’t mean they weren’t poisonous to men! 

Sigrid clung them closer to her chest though, glaring daggers at Éolist. “Shut up right now Listy or I swear on the stallion's heavy right bollock I will cut out your tongue and feed it to the pike whilst you watch!” Fíli was somewhat taken aback by the elegance of her wording. He’d only ever heard his mother use that kind of language.

“We don’t have any pike round here, so good luck with that.” Éolist responded, sticking out her tongue as if in evidence of Sigrid’s failed threat. 

“You’d get on well with my brother.” commented Fíli, almost impressed to find someone as… trying… as his brother without having to look outside his own family. 

“Oh yes, Sigrid mentioned you had a brother, I’d love to meet him. Especially if he’s anything like you.” she winked “Maybe we could see you both at the full moon dance, it’d be great to get to know you a little better, if you know what I--” Fíli was only slightly surprised by the force at which Sigrid’s elbow met her cousin’s ribs. Éolist’s grunt of pain was hidden behind a cunning smile, but she still raised her hands in surrender. 

“I was just saying it would be nice to get to know other people from other areas and cultures, no need to beat me up for it.”

“That’s  _ not _ what you were saying.” hissed Sigrid, throwing Fíli an apologetic glance, one he knew all too well from seven decades as Kíli’s brother/apologist. “I’m so sorry Fíli, she’s just being annoying, please please don’t listen to her, you don’t have to--.”

“No no!” said Fíli hastily, “I’d love to come, if you don’t mind that is. I mean, I’ll have to check with Mum and Uncle but I don’t see why we couldn’t, if you’re alright with it, that is.”

“Great.” smiled Éolist, looking very much like the colt who got the carrot. “I’ll go tell Théonyss that there’ll be a few more faces than usual.” she winked and sauntered off down the road, looking back over her shoulder in what was clearly meant to be a inconspicuous manner but failed completely. 

Sigrid sighed, and ran a hand down her face in a long suffering manner.

“She’s a bit of an avalanche, your cousin.” 

“Huh?” said Sigrid looking at him confused 

“You know, she’s got lots of energy and you can’t always predict what she’s going to do? She’s almost too much all at once?”

“Huh? Oh! Oh I get it now! You mean she’s a bit of a wild salmon, or, or a filly in a fresh field! Sorry, yes, no. I mean, you’re right, I mean.” Sigrid groaned again “Can we just start over?”

“From where?” asked Fíli, raising an eyebrow and somehow feeling a lot more relaxed around Sigrid now that he’d met her cousin and seen a bit more of her own personality. 

“How about from ‘hello, thank you for the flowers?’” she suggested with a rather self deprecating smile.

“Then you are most welcome. I hope you like them and that I’ve not actually given you any poisonous ones by mistake…”

“No, no, that’s just Listy’s sense of humour. I’ll get her back one day soon, mark my words.” Fíli could practically feel the storm clouds gathering about them.

“Well, I hope she never does meet my brother because, as I said, I think they’d only end up teaming up and taking over Arda.”

“Best tell Melkor and Mairon to watch out, there’ll be a new duo in charge of mayhem.” chuckled Sigrid, “yeah, I can sense their meeting would be a bad idea.” 

“Well, these things can’t be helped sometimes, a chance meeting of fate and all of that. Happens all the time in those old stories, doesn’t it?” laughed Fíli

“Yes! Valar save us if they turn into two lovers who end up ruling a kingdom together!” she crowed and then suddenly a silence fell between them once more, more awkward than any of the numerous ones that had come before. 

“So, erm,” began Fíli at last “there was something you wanted to ask me?” 

“Yes! Yes there was!” said Sigrid quickly “Um, hold on I’ll go put these inside and then we can talk properly, away from prying eyes.” she indicated her head sideways and Fíli glanced back at the inn to see several heads all peering out through the upstairs window. He got the distinct impression that it wasn’t him they were staring at. 

She dashed inside and Fíli heard quick, sharp barks of what was probably Rohirric and then Sigrid was back out the door again, looking rather flustered but doing her best to remain calm. It seemed it didn’t matter what race you were, families were always troublesome, irritating things. 

“Right.” she panted, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear “Shall we get going then?”

“Sure.” grinned Fíli, stuffing his hands in his pockets just for somewhere to put them. He was suddenly acutely aware of them in a way he never had been before. “Where did you have in mind?”

“Oh well, I didn’t have anything in particular, I just wanted to ask you about Zantul.” she began, starting to walk them towards… somewhere. It was as if her feet knew where she was going even if she didn’t. 

“Zantul?” he asked, somewhat surprised 

“Or well, any of the goats really but mainly Zantul.” she shrugged “I um, well to put it plainly I want her milk.” she said, biting her lip and looking as if the answer was one of life or death.

“Her milk?” frowned Fíli,

“Don’t worry, Uncle’s already agreed that for every cup we get he’ll give you a free drink at the inn. That’s fair right?”

“I suppose,” said Fíli slowly, still not quite sure what was going on “but why do you want her milk in the first place?”

“Oh, for Tilda.” Sigrid explained as if he should have already known that.

“And Tilda’s your…?”

“My sister. Did I, did I not mention her?”

“No, you didn’t.” counted Fíli shaking his head curiously

“Oh, well everyone usually tells me I mention her too much. Even my aunt, well, especially my aunt.” she sighed “It’s as though she thinks it’s a crime to want to care about my motherless baby sister.” 

“Motherless?” Fíli whispered, slowing down slightly 

“She died.” said Sigrid with a forced ease Fíli understood all too well. “So now Tilda needs milk, and goat’s milk is the best kind, apparently.”

“Well I’d have to agree on that one.” he nodded, not pushing her for more details she didn’t want to give. “So long as the farrier says Zantul’s well enough to do so I don’t see why--”

“Oh crap!” cried Sigrid suddenly, bringing her hands to her mouth “I was so obsessed with Tilda that I forget about everything else! Oh I’m so sorry you must think I’m such an awful--”

“No, no not at all!” chuckled Fíli, batting away her words with a friendly hand “She’s probably perfectly fine I just didn’t want to get your hopes up that you’ll be able to have her.” 

“Really? You’ll let us have some?”

“As much as you want.” he grinned, nudging her with his shoulder “It’s not like we’ll be using any whilst we’re here, or that we’ll be able to use everything she can produce! It’d be an honour to help out a family such as yours.” he declared with a sweeping bow.

Sigrid let out an uncharacteristic high pitched giggle, one she was intensely grateful Éolist was not around to hear. Fíli looked at her from where he was still bent low to the ground and gave her a curious look. 

  
“Oh, shut up,” she huffed “get up before someone says something.”

“Says what?” he asked, reaching out to take her hand in the most princely way imaginable 

“So tell me about your life,” she replied, avoiding his question as best she could. Though she still felt very reluctant to let go of his surprisingly tender hand.  

“Not much to tell really.” he shrugged, keeping step with her as they continued on out of the town and further into the surrounding countryside “I’m a dwarf, I live with my family and our goats in a caravan. We travel around trying to find work, same as most of our kind.” 

“Don’t you have a home though? Where were you born?” asked Sigrid curiously, she couldn’t imagine what it must be like travelling that way.

“I was born in the Blue Mountains, and I liked it there, it was great but… well it wasn’t  _ home _ . I guess it was to me and Kíli, but the rest of my family… it was just a place to live?”

“So they just took you away from there?” 

“Well, not quite… it’s complicated. Plus you don’t want to hear about it I’m sure.”

“It sounds like there’s quite the story to it…” she pushed, not wanting to seem as though she was intruding, but still giving him the option to talk. She could sense that he wanted to, but had just never had the chance to. Fíli looked as though he was about to say something when he spotted something just to the left of him. Sigrid followed his gaze and a smile broke out across her face 

“A lake! I, I never knew they had one round here!” she grabbed his hand instinctively and raced over towards it. It was only a small pond really, home to just a few chubby moorhens, but to Sigrid it looked like paradise. “My Aunt never even told me this place existed…” she breathed, taking it all in and rushing to take off her shoes. She sat down and dangled her feet into the water, not seeming to care if her dress got wet. 

“You sure do like your lakes.” commented Fíli, following after her and sitting down by her side. 

“I grew up on on one.” she explained, swinging her legs in and out of the water, making it splash up against the sides and earning her a few angry quacks. “I miss it, even though my town was always busy, when you go out far enough there’s so much tranquility. You can see the ripples chasing across the surface, feel the fresh air on your skin and just, breathe, you know?”

Fíli hummed in gentle agreement. He’d never actually been on a lake, or near a body of water for any amount of time, but the feeling she described was familiar. When his family got too much for him, or when his brain filled with too much dust and fog, he used to go for a wonder and find the highest place he could and just… watch. He told her about watching the birds flit about the sky and how the clouds would shift and change in a mesmerising pattern; how everything always made more sense when you could see it laid out before you. The world seemed so much bigger, and so much smaller at the same time. It gave him perspective, and sometimes that’s all he needed in life. 

“It’s not usual for dwarves to like the outdoors so much.” he admitted at the end “We’re meant to like stone caves and the feeling of being surrounded by earth, but if my Uncle’s plans ever happen, and we do return home, well… I’m not certain I’ll like it all that much.”

“Back to the Blue Mountains you mean?”

“No, not there. Erebor, that’s where home’s meant to be, but I don’t think that’ll ever happen. Not when Smaug’s still alive at least.” His words caught up with him at last and he felt himself freeze. They weren’t meant to tell anyone where they were from. It was meant to be a secret, the children of men were always so suspicious of their ways. Thorin had always warned them to keep their true identities a secret, that if people knew they were talking to exiled royalty they’d be kidnapped or killed, or something far worse all together. He knew he had a point, he knew not everyone they’d met over the years was as kind or as understanding, he knew many people still blamed his family for what had occurred in Dale. But what were the chances of Sigrid actually knowing anything about that? He glanced at her, and felt his heart sink at her look of incredulous shock. It seemed she did know all about it… he opened his mouth to try and explain but she cut him off instantly. 

“Your family’s from Erebor? Really? Wait, are  _ you _ from Erebor? I don’t actually know how old you are, is that rude? I am  _ so _ sorry! It’s just that, well I’m from Laketown, and so all my family is from Dale. Well, no that’s wrong Mam’s family is all from Rohan but she moved to Laketown to be with my Da when she got pregnant with me you see so it’s really great to actually meet someone from Erebor because we’re so closely tied together see! I probably have more in common with you then anyone else here!”

Fìli wasn't sure how to process that. If she was from Laketown than surely she must know all about Smaug and the gold and well, everything his family had done to hurt Dale. His mother and uncles might tell him that it wasn’t their fault, that his great-grandfather was ill and that Dragons were always to be tempted by gold; but it still didn’t sit right with him. She had every right to despise him and yet, and yet the look in her eyes wasn’t one of hate. She seemed genuinely excited about their shared history. 

“I’m seventy-seven.” he answered at last “but I’ve no idea what that means in your years!” he added at Sigrid’s look of shock. “Dwarves live a lot longer so we age a lot slower, and that’s nothing compared to the elves! Sorry I… does that weird you out?”

“No! Well, it’s like I said I knew dwarves aged differently but, I mean, I’m fifteen and I thought that we were… well you don’t look seventy-seven.”

“And you don’t look fifteen.” he countered “if it wasn’t for your lack of beard I’d have said you were in your seventies too.” 

“I must seem like such a child to you.” she mumbled

“Na.” he nudged her with his shoulder “If anything you’re the most adult person I know.”

“That’s probably not a good thing.” she replied, looking back down at her feet shifting them about in the water. “I keep getting letters from my da back in Laketown still, asking me about what we’re doing, if we’re all still getting along, and asking how big Tilda’s getting and, well it’s not fair that he doesn’t get to see all her milestones you know? So I’ve got to keep an eye out for them, because he doesn’t get to see her learning to crawl or her first steps or her first words…”

“It must be hard on him, plus not getting to see you as well, all your milestones.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure he’s missing seeing my first spilt pint.” she scoffed

“No, but other firsts. Like,  _ buying _ you your first pint, watching how tall you’re getting. Giving you your warrior braids or whatever it is you men do,” he suggested, scratching the back of his neck

“We’ll we’ve nothing like that, unless Andurin rings count.” she laughed good naturedly

“What’s that then?” 

“Oh well, it’s like a sort of courting thing? It shows whether you’re courting or not or no!” she added quickly at his look of shock “I’m not old enough for that yet, just um, no.”

“You’re not courting?”

Her next words came stumbling out of her “No. No, not even in the slightest! Not at all! There’s no one!”

“Oh,” he replied, in a tone Sigrid couldn’t quite interpret “so, you’ve not got anyone you’re interested in? Not, not even at the dance?“

“No… I’ll be going alone if, if that’s what you’re asking?” she looked over at him and saw a red blush rising across his face. She felt one creep across her own face. 

“I should go.” he mumbled, clambering to his feet “My family will be wondering where I am. I’ll tell them about the milk though. I promise. Your sister will get it.”

“You do?” she asked, getting up also. 

“A Dur- a dwarf always keeps his word.” he gave her a short bow and Sigrid felt her heart stutter. 

“Thanks a million Fìli, you’re wonderful.” she reached out to touch his arm, and felt the muscle there. She quickly let go with a tight gulp and dropped her hand to her side. “I’ll see you later then, at the inn.” 

“Try and stop me.” he grinned, and after another awkward moment of doing nothing but smiling at one another, they finally parted ways. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Éolist - Horse Cunning
> 
> Éomiht - Horse (bodily) strength 
> 
> Théonyss - Hospitality (of People) 
> 
> Théoéstful - kindness and devotion (of people) 
> 
> Éststed - Place of good pleasure 
> 
> Generic Celtic: 
> 
> Kegan - Small and firey 
> 
> Kena - handsome and firey 
> 
> Kendra - Prophetess - can also be translated to ‘Royal Obligation’ and ‘Clear Water’ -- appropriate for someone who would mother Laketown children and future royals! She was also a Seer in my fic ‘Gift of the Valar’ lol 
> 
> Khuzdul:
> 
> Zantul - Hairy


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Disertation is handed in at last! Meaning I should be able to get back to Olympic Hockey AU, once I've shifted this cold that struck me as soon as my body realised my deadline was over -____-
> 
> But yes, for now, please enjoy this piece of teenage fluff =)

The days between their afternoon by the pond and the evening of the dance passed with gradual, gentle ease. Frerin was readily agreeable to exchange goats milk for ale, and soon became a regular at the inn; dragging along the rest of his family. Kena watched with quiet amusement, as the relationship between her niece and the handsome dwarf blossomed. Sigrid would go every morning to pick up the supply and all she would talk about for the day was of the news Fìli had to share. Then when he came in the evenings to pick up the empty bottles she would tell him of all that had happened to her.

Dìs, the vivacious dwarrow matriarch, seemed to be of the same opinion as Kena, though she did have her worries. The pair had struck up their own understanding, and enjoyed having a new sparring partner for sharp motherly wit. They understood that dual need for subtlety and bluntness, and didn’t mind if one swapped between the two.

“We’ll be moving on soon you realise, now that your blacksmith’s on the mend.” Dìs mentioned casually as they leant against the side of the inn swapping Pipe weed.

“I know, and I wish you all well when you do leave us. We’ll all think of you often, about your brother especially.”

“Oh Frerin will be fine, he’s got a nose for sniffing out good ale. Though it’s my other bothersome blonde I’m worried about.” She nodded towards where Fìli was chatting animatedly with Sigrid, completely ignorant to where they were walking. The women watched with an experienced air as he tripped over a stone in the road with his arms pinwheeled manically as he fell, grabbing a hold of Sigrid’s arm and bringing her down with him.

“Anyway,” Dìs continued looking away from her red faced son “surely you’re concerned about your own charge. What’s your take on it all?”

“You know how I feel Dìs.” Kena replied, taking a slow pull on her pipe before examining the contents “I think mixing your dwarven leaves with my Rohirrim ones creates for a far better flavour.”

“I’m not denying the _quality_ , just the after taste.” she rebutted “It’ll be sweet for now but there’ll be a bitterness at the end of it.”

“Oh come on, you remember what it was like to be young and in love. It always hurts in the end but it’ll be the good kind.”

Dìs sighed “Well I can’t fault you there. They certainly do seem happy together.”

“Even if they won’t admit it yet,” smirked Kena, watching as her niece had her clothes brushed down in a babble of dwarven apologies.

“ _Pah_. Bottle of mead says that it’ll happen at the dance, whether we like it or not.”

Kena considered the options, her niece might take after Kendra in many thing, but when it came to love she was still a foal. “I’ll see your ale, but I’ll raise you a stash of pipe weed on a kiss by the time you leave.”  

Dìs snorted in response “Oh come on Kena, I’m not fool enough to bet against a certainty.”

 

~*~

 

The evening of the dance came in a bubble of excitement. Sigrid had never before even considered interest in such festivities before but she’d caught the bug.

“There’s going to sweet meats, and cakes, and Théonyss even lets you drink the wine if you’re not obvious about it.” giggled Éolist, rolling across her bed.

“Are you sure this dress will do?” Sigrid asked for the hundredth time, trying to catch her reflection in the window as she turned around.

“Well it’s going to have to, it’s not like you’ve got anything else.” shrugged Éolist, not looking back up at her cousin as she tried to hide her smirk.

“Listy! That’s not _helping,_ ” whined Sigrid

“Siggy, I told you. You look amazing. The finest filly by far. You’ll have everyone begging you for a dance.”

“When they’re not busy asking you, you mean.” Sigrid grinned, flopping down on the bed with her.

“Well, it’s not like you want just _anyone_ to dance with you. We all know you’re only going for-- _oof_ !” she cried as Sigrid hit her on the back with a pillow “Unfair! It’s all true and you _know_ it is. Why deny it?”

“It’s, It’s complicated,” mumbled Sigrid, looking anywhere but at her cousin.

“What, because you’ve not kissed anyone before? It’s no big deal lots of-- _hey_ ! Now stop it would you!” she laughed as Sigrid continued her attack with the pillow. “I’m just saying. It doesn’t _have_ to be complicated.”

“I’m not going to listen to a _thirteen_ year-old about romance!”

“ _Heey_ ! Point a- you’re only two years older than me so shut it and point b- I’ve still got the most experience.” she said primly and Sigrid was annoyed at the accuracy. It wasn’t _her_ fault she was… new… to all this. The opportunity had never really arisen when she was Éolist’s age, as Laketown never really had the same atmosphere as Éststed. They never really had dances and, well, it all just hadn’t interested her before now. Then when Tilda came along, she was too busy looking after her to take notice of her surroundings, so to speak, but recently, well. Things were different. Not different like when they all moved here, but a _good_ different.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Smiled Éolist, and there was no edge to it this time, just warmth. “I can see it in your eyes, you really actually _like_ like him.”

“Maybe.” She blushed

“Well then we better start getting actually ready if you want your hair to look all proper. Dwarves take a lot of stock by that thing.”

“They do?”

“Probably. But don’t worry, we’ve got the best hair expert in the villiage living right here. DA!” she yelled “SIGRID NEEDS HER HAIR PLAITED!”

 

~*~

 

Fíli nervously twiddled with his belt buckle whilst Frerin worked on his braids. Blind he might be, but he was still the most skilled out of the party. “Are you sure this will do?” asked Fíli for the hundredth time “Do you think I should have worn the red tunic instead? It’d be a bit more vibrant, wouldn’t it? Is that better for a dance?”

“Na, those no-doubt big blue eyes of yours are your biggest advantage.” replied Frerin, sliding various silver clasps into place “You want to show them off, plus blues the colour of Durin. We can’t have you going to a formal event without representing our clan.”

“He shouldn’t be going at all,” growled Dwalin, a sentiment met by Thorin.

“Nonsense,” scoffed Dìs, fluffing out her many skirts “It’s been ages since we’ve been invited to a party. It’s a good chance to dress up.”

“Balin, tell her this is a bad idea. We don’t want to make ourselves _known_ to these people, anymore than we already are. **”** Grumbled Thorin, glancing suspiciously at Kìli who was practicing the dance moves Éolist had been teaching him the day before. Dìs and Frerin let out stifled snorts of laughter. Thorin really wouldn’t know ‘ _marlith’_ it it slapped him round the head.

“Right Kid, you’re all done,” announced Frerin slapping Fíli on the shoulder. He handed him a mirror and Fíli examined the braids with care.

You look very handsome,” smiled Dís fondly. She kissed him on the cheek before turning to the rest of her family. “Right, the rest of you lot look as good as you’ll ever do. Come on, let’s go and show these Horse Heads how to party like a Dwarf!”

Frerin and Kìli gave out a warrior cry, and Balin shook his head fondly at them.

“Oh you three; never change.”

“We make no intention to,” Dìs chirped and held out her arm for Balin to take it and escort her down the field towards the barn where the dance was taking place. Dwalin and Thorin followed reluctantly, muttering to each other about potential threats; however there Dìs could still recognise the small twitch of a smile across their faces as the sound of music began to drift across the field.

Fíli felt like his body was made up of lots of tiny bubbles that kept rising up and up and up-- desperate to escape the confines of his skin. It was a mix of nerves and excitement, a kind of adrenaline he’d only ever associated with the practice ring before, when he had a blade in his hand and a target to swing at. The comparison made him more nervous and slowly the bubbles began to turn to lead.

“Maybe I should go back…” he mumbled, halting in his tracks just before they got to the entrance. “I mean, Uncle might be right, we might not actually be welcome here we might not--” Kìli ignored him and shoved him through the door. He thought the music would stop. He thought everyone would turn to stare at them and start to laugh or tell them to go away. But nothing happened. The Rohirrim were too wrapped up in their own conversations that they barely even glanced as the dwarves made their way inside.

“What’s it look like,” asked Frerin, holding tight now to Thorin as he guided him around.

“Beautiful,” whispered Fíli as he caught a sight of Sigrid standing in the corner with her family. Her golden hair was spun into a delicate braid that spiralled into a bun and kept in place by a small wooden comb. Her dress, though only simple in design, was cut so perfectly for her. The Blue of the dress brought out that in her eyes, and it was a Durin blue no less. Worrisome thoughts of happily ever afters flittered across his brain.

“You love sick goat,” grinned Kìli, nudging his brother in the ribs as he waved to Éolist. Frerin let out a bark of laughter at something Dìs whispered in his ear.

“Alright kids--”

“--I’m not a kid, I’m seventy!”

“--Fine, _Young Princes_ , Off you go, and have some fun, just make sure you’re back at the Caravan before sunrise. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

“Yes Mum, thank you.” they both bowed

“And remember!” shouted Frerin after their quickly retreating forms “ _Khuzd tada tabjabi d’ahlut yusth mud ashmur diya ins ubnanhu_!”

The youngsters’ embarrassed protests at his words were drowned out by Dìs’ laughter.

“Those boys will marry Men over my cold dead body,” muttered Thorin.

“That, dear brother, can be arranged.”

Though mortified by his uncle, Fíli still continued to make his way towards Sigrid, weaving his way through the crowd. He was drawn to her life a dwarf to mithril, and he imagined for a moment how beautiful she would look in a mithril crown across her brow and tiny star diamonds sprinkled into her hair. He really needed to get a grip on himself.  

“You can all stop worrying! The fun is here,” declared Kìli, bounding up to hug Éolist and twirl her around experimentally.

“I see you’ve been practicing,” she laughed, turning him around in turn “we’ll make a Rohirrim of you yet dwarf!”

“More like I’ll make a dwarf out of you!”

“You came,” smiled Sigrid paying no attention to her cousin and Kíli’s banter faded into white noise.

“I told you I would.” Fíli grinned “You look great, by the way.”

“You too! I mean, look. We match!” She smiled, pulling out her skirt.

“We do indeed.”

They stood there smiling at one another for what felt like eternity. There were words that needed to be said, words that should be said but they just didn’t want to bubble up and ruin whatever could be happening.

“I love your beads,” said Sigrid at last, pointing to them “Do they mean anything or are they just for decoration?”

Fíli hesitated, not sure how to respond. The truth was that each one did have a meaning. If she were a dwarf she could tell immediately that he was third in line to the throne of Erebor, that he was a direct descendant of Durin The Great, that he was proficient in duel sword and metal work. She would know everything she’d ever need to know, and yet nothing at all -- yet it was all something he knew he had to keep hidden from her. There were some things he could tell her though…

“They were my fathers. These one’s here,” he pointed two square beads bracketed in the braids either side of his head. “They’ve got his mark carved on them, the ones above them were the ones mum made him for a courting gift.”

“Can I take a closer look?” she asked hesitantly raising a hand to the side of his face.

Fíli tried to steady his breathing. Examining a dwarves braids in detail would be an intimate act indeed, but Sigrid wasn’t to know that. He glanced over and saw that his family were all otherwise engaged.

“Sure,” he smiled, turning his head to the side. He felt her fingers trail loosely through his braids and then gently twist the beads.

“Beautiful.” she murmured, and Fíli felt a warm glow spin out around him. The night seemed suddenly full of endless youthful possibilities. Beneath the babble of the crowd a fiddle began to play, joined quickly by a tin whistle and the steady beat of a drum. The middle of the room seemed to empty and fill at the same time. The main event was about to begin.

“Shall we then?” asked Fíli, offering his arm which she took with a nervous smile.

“I should warn you, I’m not going to be very good at this. Listy’s tried giving me lessons but…”

“Well I am really not going to know what’s going on so there’s no need to worry. We can just make it up as we go along.”

And indeed they did. It seemed for the first few numbers it didn’t matter who you were with, it was just about getting enough bodies on the dance floor. Soon though, Théonyss, the organiser of the event, began to take a commanding control and split the room and shouted out instructions for everyone to follow.  Fíli clapped along with everyone else as Sigrid performed a series of muddled steps which he then mirrored just as clumsily. They pranced together down a row of fellow dancers and spun around in a whirlwind of laughter. Even when the dance lead them to swap partners, neither could quite look away from the other. Fíli would glance away and watch the way Sigrid laughed with a villager, just as she would turn to smile as he apologised for stepping on the milk maid’s feet.

As the night drew on everyone seemed to be having a good time, Dwalin commandeered a fiddle and Dìs began to demonstrate a series of dwarven dances that Thorin performed with her almost perfectly. Fíli felt it an absolute honour to be able to share these parts of himself with Sigrid. It was the best night of their young lives, and neither wished for it to ever end. By midnight everyone else had either slumped into a drunken heap or wandered off home. More often than not, both; with a lot of people with a drunken relative under one arm.  Indeed, Kena and Dìs had both been walked home by their families and soon it seemed that it was only Fíli and Sigrid left in the room, still slowly swaying to music that had stopped.

“We should leave,” murmured Sigrid into his shoulder.

“I know.” He answered, but continued to hold her close to him. The sounds of night began to draw in on them and they knew that the night really did need to end. They couldn’t stay in this moment forever. More than that even, this was not their permanent home, after all. Neither of them truly belong here.

“We’re packing up to leave tomorrow.” Fíli said at last. “We’ll be moving on to the next village. Balin says there’s a market perfect for selling dwarven wares.”

Sigrid was silent and still. He felt her hands tighten in his tunic for a brief moment before she let go of him entirely. “That’s fair, I suppose.” she murmured, not looking him in the eye

“No it’s not,” he answered, cupping her chin up to look at him “I don’t want to have say goodbye Sigrid.“

“I know,” she replied, “but sometimes we have to, don’t we?” she took a step away from him and wrapped her arms tight around her, looking about the empty barn. “It’s getting late, I should go back to the inn before Tilda wonders what’s happened to me.”

“I’ll walk you home. Make sure you get back safe,” he smiled, slipping his hand back into hers. She was hesitant at first, but gave his fingers a tight squeeze.

“I’m only down the road you silly dwarf. I can go there by myself.”

“But that doesn’t mean you have to go by yourself. Come on Sig, let the night last as long as it can, please?”

She laughed and swung their hands backwards and forwards. “Alright then. Come on my dashing prince, walk me back safe and sound from any vicious monsters.”

“As you wish my lady,” he bowed low, still not releasing her hand. They slowly meandered their way towards the inn, relishing in the comfortable silence they could have together. Sigrid held a lantern in one hand and Fìli’s hand in the other and knew which one she would rather go without on this dark night. She looked up at the stars and wondered at how big the world all seemed. It was funny, to have come all this way and somehow still managed to meet Fíli. Fate had played a strange trick on them. Everything needed to have gone wrong for them to be here. If Smaug had never taken Erebor than Fíli would never had needed to travel across Rohan. If Sigrid’s mother hadn’t died she’d never have been forced to leave Laketown to come here. Even if Girion had killed Smaug, and the dwarves remained in Erebor and Sigrid’s family remained in tact: there was still no guarantee they would have met. She would perhaps be a lady and he still a simple tradesmen. Life had to go wrong just for Sigrid to feel in this tiny moment that everything was right, and of course very soon it would all spin back to terrible again.

However the night still twirled on as the stars shone bright across Arda.

They reached the inn far quicker than either would have liked, and they stood awkwardly outside the door for a moment.

“Well, this is me,” laughed Sigrid, shuffling her feet awkwardly “So, is this goodbye then.”

“Not yet, please, Sigrid. I’ve-- there’s-- I mean-- I have a gift for you. Please, I want you to have something to remember me by. Will you meet me tomorrow, by that lake of yours. Just before sunset.”

“Fíli, you don’t need to give me anything there’s no way I’ll ever--”

“Please Sigrid,” he begged, reaching out to hold her hands once more “It would mean everything to get to see you one last time.”

“Of course,” she murmured, feeling her heart jump in her throat.

“Thank You,” he replied, bringing her hand to his mouth for a brief kiss. She felt the bristles of his beard mixed with the gentle touch of his lips and it sent a electric shock through her. “Goodnight, Pretty Sigrid. See you tomorrow.” he bowed again and left her standing at the door.

Sigrid heaved a sigh as she watched him traipse back up the lane to where the dwarves had set up camp. She stayed outside until the gentle golden glow of his lantern was completely out of sight and went back inside.

“ _Sooo_ , young lady where have _yoou_ been?” asked a voice that made Sigrid jump out of her skin.

“Uncle Éstful! What are you doing still up?!”

“The same could be said for you,” he chuckled, clambering out of his chair “Have a good night, did you?”

She hesitated for a moment, unable to find the words to describe what she was feeling. It was a mixture of happiness and pain and peacefulness and anger. She opened her mouth but no sound came out.

“I thought so,” her uncle answered, tucking an arm around her “I thought so.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Sigrid was awoken the next morning by Éolist slamming herself down onto her bed. 

“By the Stallion Sigrid! Da said you didn’t get back until past midnight! Tell me  _ everything _ !”  Sigrid groaned and turned over. 

“It’s too early Listy go back to sleep.” 

“No it’s not, it’s nearly midday. _ Béma  _ you’re worse than Ma, but at that’s just because she drank too much wine, not because she got with a--”

“I did not ‘get with’ anybody!” cried Sigrid indignantly, finally pushing herself up in bed in an attempt to dislodge Éolist. “We were just dancing and talking. That’s all.” 

Éolist gave out an exasperated huff, “Yeah, I saw that part, but what happened after?”  

“Nothing,” said Sigrid defensively, “we danced until everyone else had left and then he walked me home.”

“And  _ then _ ?”

“And  _ then _ we said goodnight and he went back to his caravan.”

Éolist squinted at her, in her usual attempt at deduction, but Sigrid glared right back, refusing to back down. 

“Béma Sig, you’re actually telling the truth, aren't you? You didn’t even  _ kiss  _ him! Urgh, you’re so  _ booring _ .” she huffed, rolling off of the bed. “If it was me, I’d have kissed him.” 

“Yes well, thankfully I’m  _ not _ you.” 

Éolist gave her a dirty look before swiping away the bed sheets, leaving Sigrid exposed to the cold Rohorrian air before flouncing out of the room. Sigrid opened her mouth to complain but thought better of it. If being cold meant keeping Éolist at bay, then it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. Sigrid didn't feel like telling her cousin the details of the dance just yet. She wanted to keep it all between Fìli and herself, for a little while longer. She traced the back of her hand, memories of last night swimming back to her. She longed to see him again, as though he had taken a part of her heart with him. It was a strange feeling, horrible and wonderful all at once. It was the first time she’d felt it, and she knew that, for better or worse, it would not be the last. 

Every second of the day bought her closer to seeing him again, but she knew it would also be their last meeting for Valar knew how long. Possibly for eternity. She tried to distract herself by looking after Tilda, but she couldn't stop herself from looking at the clock every ten minutes to see if it was time. Slowly the bright blue of the sky became tinged with pink, and she quietly slipped out the inn in secrecy, unaware that her aunt and uncle were watching her.

“She’s changed this last month. She smiles more, doesn't she?” asked Kena, turning to her husband for reassurance. “This  _ was _ a good idea, wasn't it? Encouraging her to be with him. You don't think we should have put a stop to it?” 

“What, are you worried she’s going to follow in Kendra’s footsteps? I mean, it’s a possibility.” His eyes twinkled mischievously  “You did, after all.” 

Kena gave him a playful slap across the arm “Don't you even joke about that. If Sigrid gets pregnant under our watch Bard will kill us both!” 

“Be a hypocrite of him.” 

“And if Éolist was giving birth at sixteen?” 

“Fair point. It’s true, you would murder him.”

“But you have a point I guess…” mused Kena, “what if this is it for Sigrid? I mean, I found my true love age when I was her age--” 

“--Oh yes? Who was that then?” 

“Certainly not you if you keep that up,” Kena said with a long suffering sigh “but seriously, what if she's done the same and we’ve pushed her towards something that might never come to be?” 

“You’re being too much of a romantic,” he laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. “She’s allowed to fall in love and get hurt. Plus she hasn't had enough time to fall for him entirely. Even if it could go somewhere, it won't.” 

“And that doesn't bother you?” Kena boggled, twisting her head round to look at him, but not trying to escape his comforting grasp “You think it’s alright for us to encourage her to break her own heart?” 

“I think we’ve let her make her own decisions, and that can only help her in the long term. It’s better to have had the chance at love then to have let it slip through your fingers. Life can be so short, after all. She knows that better than anyone-- so do you.” he smiled, squeezing her tight.

“You’re probably right.” She sighed “ _ Béma _ , when did you get so poetic?”

“I’ve been reading those novels Éolist thinks we don't know about.” He explained ruefully 

“We should probably worry about that girl.” 

“Na, there's no way some of that stuff is physically possible unless you're an elf. Though we can always try later if you wish?” 

“Now there's the man I fell in love with.” She chuckled, cupping his cheek. A lot has changed in fifthteen years together, but lingering kisses and roaming hands was not one of them. 

 

~*~

 

Nobody was there. The sun was setting and nobody else was there! Sigrid paced nervously up and down, casting worried glances to the horizon.

“He promised he’d be here,” she murmured to herself “where is he?” Her brain started to gallop with possibilities. Perhaps he's been injured, or forced to leave earlier than expected? Maybe he was lost?! Then there was that tiny, horrible part of her brain that said it was all a joke. He’d never intended to come and had been pulling her along all this time. That would probably make more sense in the end. Why else would a dwarf like Fìli, with his golden looks and sparkling personality show interest in a dull, skinny, shy girl like her? 

The sky was a blaze of red and orange, the clouds seeming to be tipped in yellow and their reflection danced upon the pond’s surface like flames. The tears she’d been feeling well up inside of her started to fall and she tried to wipe them away but more kept coming to replace them. “Stupid, stupid girl,” she muttered as she began to traipse back to the Village. 

She had barely moves though when an echoing shout stopped her in her tracks. 

“Sigrid! Sigrid wait!” 

“Fìli!?” She cried running back towards the voice. 

“Wait! Please wait!” he panted, coming into sight now and pulling to an abrupt stop just before the edge of the pond. “I’m sorry I’m late. I am  _ so _ sorry. My uncle he got me working and I couldn't leave and then I had to get Zantul and… I’m  _ sorry _ .”

“That’s alright. You’re here now,” she smiled, reaching out to hold his hand. 

“No, it’s not. I made you wait for ages I didn't mean to--” 

“I told you Fì, it’s alright. So long as you’re here now. That's what matters to me. I mean, I thought you weren't coming at all so this is--” 

“You thought I wouldn't come?” he asked, the hurt evident in his voice, “why would you think that Sig?”

“Well,” she tugged on her sleeve and looked away “you’re all,  _ you _ and I’m all me, and--” 

“Sigrid you are the most incredible person I have ever met in my whole life.” 

His words made Sigrid feel the truth of it. His eyes were so earnest, his hair glowing in the light of the setting sun and Sigrid knew that she  _ wanted _ to be incredible. She wanted to be the person he saw her as, no matter what it took. She felt her breath catch in her throat. Just as in their first meeting, she was lost for words. 

“I-- I have to go Sigrid. I told you we’re leaving and, and well. I mean, this is goodbye, but it’s like I said, I wanted to give you something to remember me by so, so I want you to look after Zantul for me.”

“You-- wait what?” Spluttered Sigrid, looking from Fìli to Zantul. The goat was looking very peaceful, gently gnawing on the grass. Her leg had not quite fully healed, but she was certainly on the way. Kena had been right about her milk too, Tilda had seemed to be happier of late; though that could equally be down to her picking up on Sigrid's own contentment with life. 

“Your sister needs her way more than we do, and you need your sister. You care so much about everyone Sigrid, please, let me do this for you?” 

“But, but you love Zantul…” she stammered. 

“Yes, well, Sigrid I--” he hesitated, his mouth opening and shutting a couple of times before at last he said the words she would never forget “I love you more.” 

“You love me more than a goat?” She frowned, and Fìli’s face blushed bright red. Sigrid looked into his eyes to see if he was joking but saw nothing of the kind. They were a clear blue, clear as the long lake on a summer’s morning; back when everything was as it should be in the world. For those beautiful blissful seconds she at felt as though she were home. 

“Thank you,” she whispered and took a step forward to place a kiss on his cheek but at the very last moment she changed her mind and touched her lips against his. It was only a fraction of a second and she quickly pulled away, her own face as flushed as his. His lips had been surprisingly soft compared to the brush of his moustache, just as it had felt when he’d kissed her hand. But this felt different somehow, far more intimate. 

He didn't speak, just gently touched his fingertips to his lips. Sigrid opened her mouth to apologise, but instead he reached out to grab her hand and gently tugged her towards him. He moved to gently cup her cheek and whispered a gentle “you’re welcome,” before turning his head to the side and softly capturing her mouth with his own. 

It was a slow, gentle, closed mouth kiss, nothing of the heated passion Éolists books had spoken off. However it still made Sigrid feel as though everything in her whole world was changing around her. Everything seemed brighter, more vibrant and surely life had never felt this  _ big _ before? She tried desperately to keep enough of her brain intact to copy him and not do anything stupid. She vaguely knew that kissing was meant to involve tongues somehow but the concept didn't seem all that appealing. But Fìli kept his mouth closed, his lips brushing gently across her and only pulling at them slightly. He’d clearly had more experience than her maybe, but she didn't care at that moment. He'd said he loved her, and she-- 

“I love you too!” she blurted out, realising that she’d not actually told him how she’d felt. He chuckled softly, resting his forehead against hers. 

“I know, pretty Sigrid. I know.” he breathed deeply. He linked their fingers together once more and they stood stock still, waiting for the sun to finally dip below the trees. 

“Goodbye, Amrâlimê.” he whispered, letting go and stepping away. 

“Goodbye, my Prince.” she answered, watching hopelessly as he walked away from her. She felt her heart race as she he left. Her tears stung at her eyes as she called out to him, one last time: “Come back to me, alright?”

He stopped and turned to face her, his smile only just visible in the dying light “I’ll try.” 

Then she was alone again. 

“ _ Baaa. _ ”  

Well, almost alone. Zantul gently nudged at her arm, turning her head to one side before bleating again. Sigrid sniffed and wiped the tears away from her eyes. “I know Zantul, I’m sorry. You’re going to miss him too, aren't you?” 

Zantul nudged her again and Sigrid laughed, wrapping her hands around the goats neck. “Come on then, let’s get you home and see if Auntie Kena has a place for you to stay.” 

The world could not be so awful, after all, if there was a goat in it. Plus who knew what the future had in store for them. There was no reason that she should not see Fìli again. Fate had bought her parent together, a bargeman from Esgaroth and a shield maiden from the Westfold. Who was to say that a daughter of man and a dwarf couldn’t have the same happy life together as they had? 

  
Sigrid walked back and as she looked up at the stars she knew, deep down in her heart, that she would see Fìli again. At least one last time. 


	5. Epilogue

“Da where were you? We were so worried!” cried Sigrid, rushing to hug her father. She was 20 years old now, and still living with her family.  Many her age were starting families of their own, but so long as her siblings needed her, with them she would remain.

Their father was often away for longer than expected, his job collecting barrels from the elves often led to some spontaneous and lucrative trade deals that required certain urgency. He never told them the details, so as if they were questioned they could be truthful in their ignorance, but Sigrid knew if ever he were caught it could easily lead to  _ another _ two years parted from him. She could not stand the thought of it. Though her time in Rohan had not been as awful as she’d feared at the time. There were certainly a few weeks which she thought to be the happiest of her life. However there really was no place like home.   

Without her father’s side business as a smuggler they would not be able to put food on the table though. Bard considered the risk worth enough, so long as Tilda never had to go hungry. Thus Sigrid resigned herself to always worrying about him. 

However rather than being relieved that he had finally returned after so long, something about him made her feel all the more anxious with each passing second. Rather than explaining what was going on, he’d had rushed them all into action, and Sigrid watched as Brain dashed to the bathroom to get… something? Or someone? 

“Da…” she said slowly “why are there dwarves coming out of our--  _ Fìli _ !”

“Sigrid!”

“What are you doing here?” They said in unison before breaking out in a nervous laughter.  

“I knew you’d come back to me.” 

“I knew I would too.” he grinned and it was as if no time had passed between that night by the pond and right now. They stood in her kitchen, their hands finding one another again and feeling out all the new lines and scars that lay there. None of that mattered though, they were finally both back where they belonged. 

Fate is fickle and cruel. It gives and it takes, and it set people down many unexpected paths. But sometimes, just sometimes it could be kind; even if that kindness could only live for a night. 

  
It was always better to feel love for a moment, then to live a life without ever knowing what might have been. 

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoyed this? Let me know via comments/kudos or on Tumblr where I'm [MrsMaryMorstan](http://mrsmarymorstan.tumblr.com)


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